


The Butterfly's Dawn

by TitanFodder



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:03:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TitanFodder/pseuds/TitanFodder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean always had feelings for Marco. It’s far too late to tell him though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Butterfly's Dawn

The air around him felt damp and cold. The ambiance of the aura surrounding the blackened skies and mucky grounds proved to be too sickening for many to stick around. All that he could smell was burning human flesh and bones.

Flames were taking over. Smoldering emotions rose from the burn pits where the fallen scouts had been put to an unholy final rest. The air was thick with the smog of hopelessness, to the point where he couldn’t breathe anymore. He couldn’t find reason to breathe anymore.

Jean sat on his knees in front of the pits by himself; everyone else had long since left, with either the weight of the atmosphere or the weight of the countless deaths shoving them away. He knew, deep in his heart though he wanted to refuse it, that Marco was in there, his body burned and scorched in the blazes of a reluctant victory.

“Butterflies are delicate, Jean. They fly without a single care in the world.”

He closed his eyes, his hands folded in his lap.

“But when the butterfly has to fight against the stray cat, it has to be careful that its wings don’t get touched, otherwise it won’t be able to fly anymore and will die.”

He felt Marco’s voice echo through his mind, the memories threatening to overwhelm him. He looked up to the flames, the bright crimson butterflies in the sparks falling around him.

“Humans are delicate too. That’s why I’ll make this promise with you.”

A single spark came down and fell upon Jean’s cheek. It didn’t feel hot, but there was heat behind it. It didn’t burn, yet it seared the full gravity of that promise onto him.

“You’ll be my first kiss, won’t you?”

Jean sighed, unable to stand anymore of it. Marco was gone, the last reminiscence of his being scarred to Jean’s cheek. As he stood up to walk away, he felt a familiar tug on his jacket from the wind, and felt better.


End file.
